


Covered

by Dancingmuffin, wattlebird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coat feels, Damn trenchcoat, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 11, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingmuffin/pseuds/Dancingmuffin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wattlebird/pseuds/wattlebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s heading down the hallway towards the lower levels of the bunker when he hears it. A rustling, shuffling noise comes from the direction of the doorway. The noise is amplified by the tiled surfaces of the floor and walls. Pressing his back into the nearest wall, he peeks his head around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covered

Something's off. He can tell just as soon as he walks in the front door of the bunker. Setting the shopping bags down, Dean draws his gun and descends the stairs. He keeps his tread light on the metal risers.

War room? Clear.

Library? Empty, save for the books Sam left before rushing out to help Eileen.

He checks the observatory, kitchen, and a few various other rooms to find the same result: nothing.

He’s heading down the hallway towards the lower levels of the bunker when he hears it. A rustling, shuffling noise comes from the direction of the doorway. The noise is amplified by the tiled surfaces of the floor and walls. Pressing his back into the nearest wall, he peeks his head around the corner. It’s clear, but several of the doors are open, including Cas’ room and the large storage closet at the end of the hallway.

The last he knew, Cas was lying comatose on his bed. Perhaps it is Cas making the noise, but Dean’s not taking any chances.

He creeps down the hallway, gun leading the way. At the first open door, he swings into the room. The closet door is wide open, but nothing else is amiss. He backs out of the room and enters the next room. Cas’ room.

At once, Dean finds the source of the noise. It’s Cas. The gun drops to Dean’s side as he takes in the scene before him.

Cas, awake now, is standing in the middle of the floor next to his bed. Coats and jackets of various colors and styles litter the floor, surrounding him in a circle of outerwear. Dean looks on as Cas picks up a coat, holds it up to himself, and tries it on. It stays on just long enough for Cas to put it on before he throws it to the floor. “No.”

Cas looks around at the piles of coats surrounding him. “No, none of these are right.” He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it.

Dean fidgets at his place in the doorway. “Cas, buddy, you okay?”

Cas stands there for a long moment, a hand still tugging at his hair, looking lost. He slowly turns his head to face Dean. “Dean,” he trails off, his eyes returning to the coats after a few moments.

Dean flicks the safety on and tucks his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. He takes a few steps closer to Cas. “Dude, what’s going on; what’s with the coats?”

Cas meets Dean’s eyes again. There’s a wild, lost look to them that Dean can see now that he’s closer.

“They’re all wrong,” Cas laments. He points to a short, dark brown leather jacket. “Too tight and short.” A bright yellow rain slicker is next, “too long and big.” Cas then points to a balled-up blue jacket thrown into the far corner of the room. “No,” Cas says simply.

Dean takes a few steps into the room. “Hey,” he walks closer to Cas. “Hey, look at me.”

Cas glances at Dean, meeting his eyes just for a moment, before dropping his gaze back down to the floor.

“Dude, just tell me what’s up.”

Cas sighs, “they’re all wrong.”

Dean picks a coat at random from the floor. “I get that, but that’s not a reason to be freaking out like this. What’s really wrong?”

“It’s gone.”

Dean shakes his head, and moves his hand in a ‘go-on' type of gesture. “What’s gone?”

“My coat, Dean. It’s gone.”

“Yeah, it’s been gone for a while, Cas. You left it behind. But why freak out about it now?” Dean drops the coat he’s holding to the ground. “It’s gone. It’s not coming back.”

“I’m aware it’s gone, Dean. I just don’t feel right without it.” He clenches his jaw and turns completely away from Dean. “It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“This one makes me too visible; this one is too tight in the shoulders, I can’t fight in it.” Cas takes a deep breath before pointing to the balled-up blue jacket. “That one. I can’t.” He looks back to him. “Dean, I just can’t.”

Dean, looking closer at it, recognizes the jacket as the one Cas had when he was homeless. Hot guilt floods through him. He may not be able to change what he did back then, but maybe there is something he can do now. “Hey Cas, come with me. I gotta show you something.” He grabs Cas’ wrist and pulls him towards the door.

Once in the hall, Dean leads him to his bedroom. He sits Cas on the bed, and goes to his closet. Opening the door, he rifles through the hanging items until he comes across what he’s looking for. He comes out of the closet, carrying his long, black, fake FBI overcoat. “So,” he starts, taking a seat next to Cas. “This coat is black, which is both slimming and inconspicuous.” He throws him a wink. “I know for a fact that you can fight in it. It’s seen several. And, if you walk really fast, it fans out just like your old one did.” He hands it to him. “Here, try it on.”

Cas narrows his eyes and looks at Dean, not taking the coat.

Dean shakes it at him, “c’mon, Cas. It’s not gonna bite.”

Cas continues to look from the coat to Dean and back again.

Dean huffs and stands up. “Dude, come on.” He grabs Cas’ wrist and pulls him to a standing position. “Put it on.”

“Fine, Dean.” Cas begins to put the overcoat on. “I don’t know why you are so insistent that this one somehow will be magically better.” Pulling the coat on the rest of way, he glares at Dean. “None of them are right. None of them are mine.”

Dean grabs the front placket of the coat, shaking out the lapels from where they had been folded under. He then straightens the collar. “There. That’s better, isn’t it?” He takes a small step back.

Cas looks down at the coat. It hangs off of him just right. He moves his shoulders around with no trouble. Cas meets Dean’s eyes. “Yes. It is better. Thank you, Dean.” He grabs his hand. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Muffin feels no need to leave a note, so I will leave a note from both of us. ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading. This was the work of two very tired individuals. No seriously. We stayed up way too incredibly late to write this thing.
> 
> Comments and concrit are appreciated!
> 
> Thanks again and have a lovely day! 
> 
> ~Wattlebird and Dancingmuffin.


End file.
